


The Way You Look at Me

by amarmeme



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Long-Distance Relationship, Mostly Angst and Smut, POV Alternating, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/pseuds/amarmeme
Summary: There's something about the way Reyes Vidal looks at her that should tip Casarra Ryder off, but after the stunt he pulls in the cave she can't be too sure about how he feels. If absence really does make the heart grow fonder though, then surely they're both in for it now.





	1. Chapter 1

Reyes trapped Casarra against the cave wall, usual smirk shifting to something infinitely more dangerous as she whispered her approval against his ear. Her taste in men had been pretty subpar so far, the last ex discharged from the Alliance, the one before still living with his mother. This one though, he had a certain charm that Casarra couldn’t deny.

From the start Casarra doubted their budding relationship held any real meaning for Reyes, not really. He was an expert flirt; anyone could see those pick up lines coming from light years away. And he certainly wasn’t giving himself a good name when he dropped out of the shadows like a villain from a vid, catch phrase at the ready.  But then he pulled her aside and those desperate, revealing words rolled right off the Charlatan’s tongue.

_I liked the way you looked at me._

Casarra had become incredibly weak-willed. She knew her own feelings and they were seriously impressed upon by that statement.

Rivulets of Sloane’s blood still ran across the dusty cavern floor, but the hazy buzz of desire caused by the perfect seal of their bodies blocked any sense of decency. Casarra was beyond primed, like any good heat seeking weapon -- overcharged by weeks of teasing -- and now an explosive energy flowed through her veins. Reyes curved over her possessively, one hand above her head, the other digging urgently against her hip.

A breathless moan escaped her as the bolder hand traveled above her waist, finding space beneath the bulky chestpiece to squeeze her ribs as his wicked tongue pressed past the seam of her lips. Reyes had made good on at least one of his claims from the start; the man knew how to use that mouth.

Armor was in the way as always, and her skin practically burned for his touch. Despite an aching back from being jammed against the wall, the base, senseless part of her yearned to peel off everything and fling open his belt. To hitch her legs around his waist and be pushed even harder against the jagged rock. She nipped his lower lip, eager to dispense some sort of punishment for the situation as long as it resulted in a reward for herself. Reyes squeezed her tightly in response, wedging a leg between her thighs. Casarra’s pulse had fluttered wildly before, but now could only be felt it in one particular place.

“I’ll assume this is you two making up, then.” Vetra’s sarcastic trill echoed through the cave. The turian’s timing was impeccable as always.

Casarra choked on nervous laughter as Reyes pulled back automatically. Armor creaked in relief as she sucked in a deep, cool breath, the first in what felt like days. The musky air helped drive the lust away and Casarra shook her head in disbelief at how close a thing it was. Thankfully her team kept her sane -- being the first human in Andromeda to fuck in a cave was not on her list of to-dos as Pathfinder. Odds are, someone on Kadara probably had already beat her to it anyway.

Reyes’ hand lingered at her waist for a brief moment, as if reluctant to let go completely. When it dropped, Casarra fought the urge to lean back into him. He was one hell of a contact high. At the same time, Vetra crossed her arms, tapping a talon against an armored elbow. Cora joined Vetra’s side serenely, a half concealed smile tucked away as she fiddled with her Omni-tool. The awkward silence between their little party didn’t stretch for long.

“Well, I can’t be the only one getting hot in this cave,” Vetra said. Her mandibles flared before she walked off, shaking her head. Probably in laughter, but disappointment too.  She’d been dispensing a lot of caution over Reyes, and Casarra knew she’d be hearing it all again on the way back to the Tempest. A silver lining of Scott’s pervasive coma was that she’d only receive one concerned sibling lecture about Reyes today.

“Ryder,” Cora added. “We should probably get going before anyone has a chance to show up and start asking questions.”

“Just give me one minute, and I’m right behind you.”  

Her second in command nodded, then disappeared through the cave mouth and into the white hot light of the Kadara afternoon. Alone again, Reyes’ fingers found their way back to Casarra’s hip, taking advantage of the place where her suit was weakest. He was an expert at discovering her soft spots. While his thumb ran against the curve of her waist, Reyes’ smile was dazzlingly bright in the shadows.

“And there goes any hope of me making a good impression on your friends.”

She groaned and shoved against his chest. At least it was only Vetra and Cora for backup -- she could only imagine what Liam would have to say about this. The team’s thoughts were the least of her concerns though. How was this supposed to even work? The bigger question was, should it? Long distance was a challenge in and of itself, but she was a Pathfinder and Reyes was...

Like taking an unexpected punch to the stomach, Casarra realized that now was the time to make a choice. Either ask him to commit or quit; there was no more room for indecision. He’d planned his part well, all the weeks leading up to this moment just groundwork for a final show-down. Reyes probably had no doubts about the outcome when he woke this morning, and Kadara was in his hands now for it. Casarra knew this meant the Initiative _would_ get an outpost, but what if something went wrong in the future because she was blindsided by his undeniable allure over her?  
  
Casarra took a calming breath, focusing on the hand at her waist. Somehow it all worked out today, if you overlooked a little cold-blooded assassination. She'd made that decision though, and Reyes proved he didn’t need a Pathfinder. He had found his own way, slipping through the dark and whispering into the right ears, greasing the right palms. It was admirable, in the vigilante justice sort of way -- Reyes had made something of himself with practically nothing. She wanted him even more for it, but was there more to it than sex for him? Would Reyes still want her in a week, when the veneer wore off and all that was left was the distant, cold concept of a lover?

Reyes took her immediate silence as an answer to some unasked question in his own mind, touching her cheek softly before stepping away. Relief and disappointment surged in her chest. Maybe she didn’t need to resolve everything right now. The Charlatan straightened his shoulders and headed back towards the direction of the murder cavern.

He spoke over a shoulder. “Come to Tartarus, before you leave Kadara.”

Casarra sighed, appreciating the time to think, but hating that she needed it at all. “I will.”

Her reply fell on shadows.

 

Damn the sexy smuggler; he’d charmed her into his arms again. The business talk was over and now Reyes lead her in an easy dance. He searched her face while they moved to the romantic song, old Earth music that was cheesy only until Reyes began looking at her with such interest. No one had examined her this closely before without also waving medical instruments around in her personal space. It was as if he was committing her to memory; the radiance in her eyes, the line of her brow, the barest parting of lips. Her stomach tightened and warmth sprang up from her belly, spreading throughout her body and filling Casarra with nervous anticipation. Those searching brown eyes matched that liquid warmth inside her, mirroring the same kind of longing and vulnerability. Everything felt simple, swaying to the music, Reyes gazing at her like she was the only other person in the world.

“Since leaving the Nexus, my survival has depended on secrets.” His voice was thick, serious. “I don't want any more of those between us, Casarra.”

He said her name, not Ryder, not Pathfinder. Casarra -- the strange name her mother gave her while Scott lucked out for once under Dad’s oversight. Casarra’s stomach flipped about, tied her in knots. This all felt much more dire hours ago, when she’d nearly screwed him in plain sight of her team and a few lucky members of the Collective. A nagging thought crossed her mind. Was this a line, rehearsed while he swept up the traces of his earlier misdeeds?

Truthfully, the thought didn’t have a fighting chance. A small but tough bubble of happiness expanded ever so slowly in her chest, shoving the concerns away. It had everything to do with the way he looked at her.

Casarra hesitated for a moment longer, resting her head against his shoulder. She knew what she wanted: to jump into this. Whatever _this_ was. Trusting Reyes after everything that happened in Kadara was the hard part, but he admitted he was trying to become someone who mattered, who moved the world. She recognized the blistering honesty in that -- wasn’t she in Andromeda for the very same reason? And now as Pathfinder, the hopes and futures of thousands of lives rode on her shoulders. Would it be so bad if she had someone to lean on along the way -- to piece together the resources and wits they had between them to make a new kind of home? Casarra had been asleep for 600 years, traveled to a lonely, hostile galaxy only to find someone who made her feel achingly alive and completely human in the middle of an alien world: soft skin, tender heart, bruises and all. Was it smart to trust him? Definitely not, but she knew the regret would eat away at her if she didn’t take what the universe was offering now. A chance.

With a deep breath, she spelled out the first of many guideposts for a relationship with Reyes Vidal.

“Don’t make any more promises you can’t keep, Reyes.” She peered up at him again. His mouth was pressed into a firm line, waiting. “You will have secrets, that’s who you are. And despite that, I’m becoming more _okay_ with what happened. Just don’t lie to me about the big stuff.”

The winsome smile that crept onto his face was as rewarding as discovering a new planet or finding an ancient artifact. Her heart fluttered for a moment, decision vindicated.

“Thank you,” he said.

That surprised her. She’d hardly felt owed the thanks -- didn’t she just make a demand? No one liked rules. Especially not scoundrels. “For what?” she asked, incredulity creeping into her voice.

“For accepting me.”  
  
Any resistance to the idea of him melted away completely. Any doubt of sincerity shriveled away at the same time. Casarra weaved her hands around his neck, standing up on tiptoes to kiss Reyes’ sweet, satisfied expression. She imagined that no matter what happened next, every stop in Kadara would start and end with this man’s lips on hers. They were too soft, too skilled and far too persuasive to imagine otherwise.

They were no longer moving, or swirling to the pretense of dancing, but holding one another in his private room. The harsh lights of Tartarus painted them darkly, hard shadows beneath their eyes and wicked red teeth as they broke apart to smile at one another. The slow tune Reyes had cued up ended on a soft note and the steady, throbbing beat of the bar downstairs rolled through their bodies. She waited with baited breath, watching him closely, hoping he’d break the spell of the moment first.  

“Normally comes the part where I’d ravish you, but--” he stroked the metal over her chest -- “this seems to be in the way.”

She nodded and Reyes’ quick fingers located one of the many locking points on her chestpiece. It loosened with a hiss and Casarra laughed at his eagerness, easily locating the various releases. Soon the hard plate was on the floor and she pried off the top half of her suit. Beneath she wore a simple blue tank. Threadbare, it came from home, back in the Milky Way. It even smelled like their apartment on the Citadel -- circulated air laced with the strange array of gunmetal and potted plants. Reyes discarded his long gloves, hands emerging at last. She couldn't look away, as if he'd unearthed a precious jewel instead of something so simple as removing an innocent piece of clothing. But his hands were quite nice; neatly kept with long, strong fingers that promised to navigate all her hidden spots. Reyes brushed her sides, inching those warm fingertips under her shirt until goosebumps rose up on her skin. She gasped, as if shocked by cold water on a sweltering day, and he crowded her again, palms running along her ribcage.

Reyes was in his element -- a lazy, confident look in his eyes, thumbs tracing a pattern beneath her breasts. More than anything she wanted his hands to move up, to settle the ache from earlier, from every day since they met. Then he leaned in and kissed her neck; the heat of his mouth on such a sensitive spot sent waves of pleasure to the tips of her toes, the roots of her hair. Oh, he was trouble indeed.

“Reyes?” she asked, hesitantly. It slipped out of her mouth without thinking. Casarra gulped, clutching the lapels of his suit. In the moment, she’d been so caught up that all the questions she'd devised between the cave and Tartarus flew out the window.  She’d promised herself not to behave the same as before, all tangled up in scandalous lust.

“Oh, nothing good happens when someone says my name like that.”

She immediately bit back the concern that sprung up in her mind like a trap, keeping her from moving forward when she'd been running full-tilt at him for weeks. Why was she stopping this? Self destructive tendencies? “No, I-- nevermind.”

Reyes tipped his head to the side as he studied her again. “Tell me, Casarra. I'm a curious man. No more big secrets?”

She twitched her lips, loved that he threw her words back at her. “I'm not sure about what this means, doing this now.” The light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly, but he kept touching her. “I haven't changed my mind, but are we... do you only want--”

Reyes cut off her with an urgent kiss, the edges of her prickly concern wearing smooth beneath his touch. He cupped her face, and her hands dropped uselessly to her sides. Only after he broke away did they grasp towards his elbows, to keep him there a bit longer.

“What was that for?” Her voice was uneven, a bit breathless.

“Yes,” he said. When she shook her head in confusion, he took her useless hands and gave them meaning. “You wanted to ask about commitment? Typically I’d make for the hills at a question like this, but you’ve captured me completely.” He kissed the back of her hand, raised it to his lips like the debonair gentleman he promised to be when they went on their first, not-real date. “From now on I want only you.”

Damn the rest of the details, they could wait for later.

“G--ood,” she stammered.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Casarra was pulled back into his orbit, Reyes kissing her neck again, hands resuming their place beneath her breasts. She whimpered a note of dissatisfaction, and like two passing ships, one hand trailed up to finally caress a breast while the other dipped low. Casarra unzipped her suit further, tough but flexible fabric gaping at her waist, the line of her underwear shockingly bright pink against her skin. Everything was red hot and darkly intense in the dim, devious light.  They moved towards the wall, seemingly fixated on doing this vertically.  She lifted a leg and placed her foot on the low bench, hissing between her teeth as he took advantage of the extra room to touch. Reyes swirled a sneaky tongue against her own as he brushed his thumb between the apex of her thighs. It slid further down, drawing a line gently over the center of her slickness, coming back to circle the spot she wanted touched most desperately. A stuttered gasp escaped her and she shuddered. Reyes swallowed the little noise eagerly, and Casarra clutched his shoulders for support, appreciating the way his muscles tensed beneath her grip. Shaky hands travelled down his front to rest on his belt. Casarra threw it open, navigated the zipper on the front of his suit and snaked a hand down into his briefs. Reyes inhaled sharply as she grasped him tightly. She shifted, fixing her grip and awkwardly finding a rhythm. Once settling in, he rolled his shoulders and threw his head back.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” he said, a husky edge to his usually smooth voice. They kissed desperately, savoring the sounds wrenched from each other's lips. Each time he coaxed a sound out of her, a moan or mewl or little plea, Reyes reacted in kind, a low grumble of appreciation or a teasing _tisc-tisc_ as she squirmed. He pulled her knee against his side while she dipped her forehead against his shoulder, perfecting her task while Reyes beckoned her closer to the edge. Her body stuttered without permission, legs boneless as he slipped fingers inside of her only to slide back to the top. His breathing hitched as she twisted her wrist expertly, savoring the feel of him in her palm.

Maybe they should have found a bed, but they were beyond that kind of coordination. Her focus was centered on him. Casarra smirked when he exhaled a deep breath, a half sort of laugh rushing out when she snuck another hand into his suit front.

“Should I worry about how much you seem to be enjoying yourself with my--” he cleared his throat--”good thing I haven’t pissed you off today." Casarra squeezed ever so slightly, biting the corner of her lip.

“You’ll be just fine you keep playing your cards ri--- _ooohh_.”

Neither spoke after that, finding the right patterns to unlock the other’s secrets, skin slick and tender to touch. It was all unwinding so quickly, like jumping out into the vastness of space, tether loose until it catches you taught, snagging you by surprise every time even when you know it's coming. Casarra didn’t want it to end, but all good things did.

They came apart in each other’s grasp, Reyes grabbing her chin at the last, topping off the final peak of her pleasure with a soul wrenching kiss, tongue swiftly tracing her lower lip, hand moving to cup the back of her head. They stood entangled, eyes tracing the paths of their crumpled clothing, their heaving chests. A rush of blood ran to her head and Casarra sat hard, slumping against the bench as he lowered himself to squat between her splayed knees. Reyes ran his hands up and down her thighs, sending shivers all over her body.

“How?” It was all she could get out at first, they both started laughing at their haste. “I guess we didn't really have a bed anyway,” she said, wiping away a tear from her eye.

“Of course I have a bed,” he said indignantly. As if Reyes Vidal didn’t sleep on the fluffiest feather top with silken sheets. She had no doubt he did -- the expert smuggler. She rolled her eyes before sighing softly, running her fingers through his hair. “You need to go.” He sounded oddly forced, as if trying to hide the disappointment in the statement with the regular swagger, but failing spectacularly.

“I’m sorry. It’s always going to be like this.”

“Casarra, I didn’t know I would see you again after what happened. Don’t apologize to me. You could have asked me to kiss your boots and I would have been very pleased.”

While that was surely not true, she took the out. Melancholy after orgasm was what neither of them wanted -- or needed. “A missed opportunity then,” she teased. “I’ll keep that in mind, for later.”  
  
Reyes kissed her wrist, then took a deep breath, bracing himself to stand. To let her go. “There will be later, I promise.”

He got to his feet, then extended a hand to pull her in for a hug. They embraced, hearts pounding against one another, a steady beat to rival the bass of the music downstairs. It felt like forever and an instant at the same time. “I have to go,” she said, pulling back by degrees. Reyes released her, only to press a lingering kiss against her cheek.

Like most of their encounters in Tartarus, Reyes sat back down on the bench, legs askew, smirk fixed in place. “Casarra.” He paused, letting her really feel the anticipation of his words for a moment. “Thanks for stopping by.”  
  
He winked at her and she wanted to punch him in the arm for it. Casarra sneered, sucking a tooth and narrowing her eyes as if displeased. “I’ll see you, Reyes.” She shook her head, laughing fakely as she turned away. She understood why he did it -- keeping it calm even though she was anything but. They’d barely even dipped a toe in the water; there wasn’t time for dramatics. But how would they fare once she pushed off from port?

The automatic door snapped open on her approach. She took a tentative step through and cued up her comms again.  

“Kallo,” she said. “Prepare the Tempest -- we’re leaving Kadara.”

Casarra pretended not to hear the general cheer over the comms that followed the announcement. Somehow Kadara wound its wily charms around her heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go -- I'm pretty stupidly obsessed with Ryder & Reyes, and while the startling lack of content in the game is not ideal, at least it opens up a lot of space for fic! Reyes is an awesome character for how short of screen time he gets, and I'm really excited to explore his side of things. This story will alternate between viewpoints (because I cannot resist), with a primary focus on plot points for Ryder. 
> 
> Anywhoosy, the big bang --heh-- is still to come. :D 
> 
> Thoughts and likes appreciated!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's amiss in Kadara and Reyes confides in Keema.

_To: Reyes Vidal  
_ _From: Casarra Ryder_

_Hi,_

_That’s weird -- isn’t it? A casual hello. Nothing about you is causal. I’ve typed this a few times -- I think this is seven -- and I don’t really know what to say. It's strange not seeing you around? The nights are lonely without a stolen bottle of whiskey? My back still hurts from the cave? (All true)_

_We’ve located the Kett flagship, but after all that time in Kadara we’ve need to resupply before making a run for it. Gil says hold off and let the Tempest have a little breather, and I’m inclined to listen because I need it too. Things are good here, but everyone has something that needs my attention. I don’t know how I’m going to do it all, but that’s my job now. Never a dull moment (says the Pathfinder to, well, you of all people). The only relief is that Kadara is going to be looked after. I’ll have to find a creative way to thank the Collective for that... And even though I didn’t have much of a chance to talk with the Christmas and his team, I think it's safe to say Ditaeon is my favorite outpost so far. Not because of you or anything. I hate driving and Kadara has dirt roads._

_Honestly though, I don’t know when I’ll be in Kadara again. At the very least, rest assured that you are impossible to forget._

_I miss you. (Is that weird to say? I just feel so silly, Reyes)_  
  
_Casarra_

* * *

 

  
According to the logs of the requisitions officer in Ditaeon, the crates of Initiative goods were not where they were supposed to be. Reyes shook his head and searched his Omni-tool for more information with a disgruntled click of the tongue. It was the third time in a week where a shipment bound for the outpost went missing in transit. The routine was perfect in its simplicity; get a message from Colt Dalton, meet the Nexus contact at the docks, then bring it over to the shuttle and wait for a pilot to arrive. Easy.  The task was so simple an initiate could do it.

Maybe that was the problem.

Reyes scanned the names of members on official Initiative duty for the week. Digger, Guit, Solder, Mirantine, Jeel. He didn’t recognize a single one. He was either losing his touch, or the Collective was becoming too large. Neither alternative was favorable; a visit with Keema was warranted. Reyes sent her a message, fingers flying over the holographic display.

_I still owe you a drink, Keema. Soon?_

He settled against a cushioned back and blinked away the Omni-tool. Data trails weren’t good, but marching up to her in public would draw far more attention than a casual message between friends. All the important people knew he was the best smuggler in Kadara Port, which meant an easy alliance with Keema Dohrgun was worth pursuing at any cost. Even sly Reyes Vidal would make an exception for covering the bill where Keema was concerned. As for the smaller group who understood he was Shena, a meet with Keema was consistent. The only trick was managing the most important identity of all: the Charlatan. The amount of people who knew his role in the Collective comprised an _intimate_ circle, especially those currently planetside. Not all of them needed to know something was rotten in the state of Kadara.

Rotten was a strong word; the situation was merely ripe. If there was a dissenter in the ranks, and that was still an _if,_ Reyes could only be assured of two things: it was not Keema, and even small holes in the bottom of a bottle drained the top first.

He sighed in exhaustion, picking up his discarded drink. Casarra had left only a week ago, but it felt like months. Sloane’s demise called for a swift action, which meant many sleepless nights in order to secure his new hold on the city on the mountain. All sorts of rogue criminal elements surged up in effort to grasp some sort of advantage during the changeover, their meager efforts stomped out like insects under the Collective’s heel. It still required constant focus. Reyes was no fool; the transition plan had been laid as carefully and steadily as the assault against Sloane. Seeing change in Kadara was worth any lack of sleep or serenity in the meantime. The people deserved a better life than what Sloane could offer. She had been the true charlatan.

Reyes drank bitterly. Despite the missing crates, he should have been much more satisfied. A modicum of regret nipped at his insides. Not for using the Pathfinder in the first place, that was a perfect opportunity no good operative could have resisted, but for how he couldn’t disengage once the Pathfinder became so much more than a pawn. Weeks ago, Reyes would have sworn that the secrecy of the Charlatan’s identity was the only thing more important than Kadara’s well-being. It was integral; one couldn’t exist without the other, and he valued his own skin. Very much. But after the Pathfinder slammed into Port, questions blazing, that was no longer true. Somehow Casarra Ryder had snuck her way to the top of the list, forcing him to reveal everything in an uncharacteristic show of trust. Reyes felt as if he’d lain on his back and shown her his belly; content for just a scratch.  

A frustrated sigh fogged up his glass before Reyes tossed the rest of the drink down. He was sitting on an email from Casarra, too unsure to reply. Not while Initiative supplies went missing under his nose. She’d said not to lie, and damn it, he didn’t want to start. So the message simmered, read but not replied to, for three days. Three days and three shipments. Purely coincidental.

A message buzzed. He looked down.

_Your place or mine?_

Reyes smirked at Keema’s quick reply.

_Kian doesn't seem nearly busy enough._

The Angaran would show when she could, maybe an hour, maybe less. In the meantime he would study the data logs from the docks, see if he could find a pattern. Reyes ordered a second drink on his Omni-tool, another whisky neat, and got comfortable, sliding back against the low bench. His fingers hesitated a brief moment after, as if waiting for a reproach, but he found himself pulling up Casarra's email anyway.

It may have taken her seven times to write it, but it was likely the dozenth time Reyes had read it. She missed him. The words swam in his chest, surging against the tides of guilt crashing over his heart.

 

Keema glided through the doors less than twenty minutes later, air of mystery about her. Her smile was subdued, but undeniably present. Reyes was curious, as always.

“Happy to see me, Keema? You look it.”

She walked past him, broad shoulders crisp while waving him down as he started to rise.  
  
“I’m just looking forward to what you have to say. It must be decidedly good if you’re bringing me down here.” Her smile was real now as she relaxed against cheap faux leather. Reyes couldn’t but help return it. The Angara had a certain allure about them and Keema was no exception.

“What do Digger, Guit, Solder, Mirantine and Jeel all have in common?”

Keema tilted her head, though not in surprise. The entirely human gesture revealed a sudden, deep understanding. She must have picked it up from someone, definitely not Reyes. He didn’t have such tells. “They are new members of the Collective, initiated within the last several weeks.”

The automatic doors split open and Reyes held back his next question. An Asari waitress floated in, carrying a single drink. She deposited it before Keema without a word and disappeared just as abruptly. Keema picked up the colorful concoction from the table and sipped demurely. Reyes shook his head, resting his forearms on his knees.

“What have I created? Even Kian doesn’t send a drink as soon as I arrive.”

She rolled her shoulders luxuriously. “Maybe if you were the head of the Collective they would.”

He laughed despite himself. The next few words were hard to admit, but even the most skilled players knew when it was time to reveal their hands to another; it was what made them adept to begin with. “Those names are on Initiative duty -- shipment of crates,  listening on the streets, easy work. Three shipments have gone missing in as many days.”

“And you think it is one of our new recruits. But this is not what you had me come here for.” Keema assessed him, large eyes unblinking. He raised a hand as if to dissuade her, then picked up his glass again from the table instead. It was useless, she knew exactly what he was about. Her gaze was unnerving. “I think you’ve been distracted by her.”  
  
Reyes didn’t disagree. He nodded, shifting the lowball in his hands. The whiskey within sloshed around the inside of the glass, a smooth, unbroken wave of liquid gold.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way -- she’s good for you.” Keema smiled, holding up her own drink. She paused before taking a sip, finger extended to make a point. “Do you know she once told me she didn’t think you really cared for her? If only she could see you now there would be no doubting it.”

Always bursting with something to say, Reyes’ mouth felt suddenly empty. And dry. Fighting against his better judgement, he decided he had to find the words to ask. “When was this? Before she left Kadara?” His stomach clenched tightly, the idea that she’d somehow flown off thinking him indifferent was mindbogglingly unpleasant. She had just admitted she missed him. Did she really think it was one-sided?

“Put that out of your mind,” Keema admonished. “It was a while back, during Sloane’s ill conceived party. I’m sure you’ve told her how you feel since then.”

The alcohol in his gut roiled, he was sure his face drew wan. He hadn’t exactly laid out those feelings in so many words. He had said he was committed, but that wasn’t the same as putting a name to his fixation with her. It was more than that though -- he was completely smitten and entirely under her thumb. But Reyes was a man of action. Surely his actions in their last few minutes together were plain enough for her to know. Couldn’t she see it?

The last part of her email came to mind: _Is that weird to say? I just feel so silly, Reyes._ He’d dismissed it as just her nerves before, feeling altogether out of place with the new relationship. It was a feeling he was very familiar with.

“You didn’t actually say anything, Reyes.” Keema disapproved. She sat forward, pressed a hand to his knee. “The Angara are very forward with their feelings,” she said. “But even so, I would think it important to make them known when there is so much distance between you. Why not tell her now, in a message?”

He scoffed then ran a hand through his hair. “She messaged me three days ago. I’ve been waiting to respond. For some lunatic reason I promised not to lie, and my understanding on how she feels about ones of omission is perfectly clear.”

“The missing crates,” Keema observed. “Well then, it seems vital that you figure that out then, Reyes. You don’t need me at all for that. I’m sure the Charlatan has plenty of resources in order to find a few misplaced parcels.” She patted his knee for good measure, then stood up to go. “Don’t keep her waiting in suspense for too long. You wouldn’t want someone else to take advantage of your misstep.”

“Keema, you wound me,” Reyes said. “After all this time and you take her side.”

She narrowed her eyes and took in his surroundings one last time. “I have your interests in mind, trust me.” Keema turned to leave, but paused before the doors could open. Her voice was light, a motherly kind of admonishing Reyes hadn’t heard in years. “And next time you woo her,  maybe you should find a better place to do it. Wouldn’t want anyone assembling your identity because the Pathfinder keeps running out of Tartarus with her cheeks flush with color and not from drink.”  

 

A few hours later he was making progress. Dalton had a few things to say about the shipments headed to the outpost after Reyes slid a few credits his way.  Pretending it was regular smuggling business he was about, Reyes implied he wanted to get in bed with the Initiative. All Dalton would admit was that the Collective had the hold on that traffic for now, and someone had been signing for the parcels in the last few days. Not wanting to press, Reyes backed off. At least Dalton was fairly loyal to the Collective -- that was good for at least one of Reyes’ carefully balanced personas, although not for his predicament today.

There was enough to glean out of the few words Dalton said. Someone, clearly one person, had been staked against collecting the packages over the last week. There were no rotations, a sign that a person higher up in the chain of Collective command had not relayed that particular detail to the team assigned. It wasn’t likely a mistake either; a crate disappearing once could happen. Three times was unacceptable. Dalton also didn't seemed alarmed about the inquiry of dealing with the Initiative, telling Reyes that the man had not heard anything from the outpost about the missing crates. Any sensitivity around transactions would have made Dalton defensive, but he was calm and straightforward as always. For some reason the man in charge at the outpost -- Christmas -- wasn’t flying off the handle. Perhaps his trust in the Collective to manage things was low to begin with. This was simply par for the course.  

Back in his rented bedroom, tucked behind the bar at Tartarus, Reyes grumbled to himself. Although the Collective was forced to deploy less honorable tactics at times, it was for the greater good. He wasn’t a mob boss, and his business was not to cut into the stability of an Initiative outpost. If Christmas wanted to keep the issues to himself and not alert the Initiative at large, Reyes could respect that. He could actually thank the man, grateful there was no risk in word getting to Casarra that the Collective was failing in their duties.

Suddenly he realized with a certain pang in his chest, he wanted nothing more than to impress her, to prove his worth. Running a shoddy shadow operation was not the way to go about it. Reyes went to his locked cabinet, punching in a code. It hissed open, doors sliding in on themselves to reveal his hidden cache of weapons. He wasn’t going to sit on his ass; Kadara was the Wild West. A man had to take things into his own hands if he wanted results, and Reyes had done quite well with them so far.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else loves Keema? She seems highly amused by Reyes' feelings for Ryder. I can't help think that she's really the only person Reyes can talk honestly to in Kadara, which is kind of sad. :/


	3. Chapter 3

Casarra checked her messages more than anyone would want to admit. Especially for someone as busy as the Pathfinder. But each day without word from Reyes was added to a little mental tally, a tick scratched against a slate. Didn’t he miss her? Or was this a one-sided affair? She hadn't stopped thinking about Reyes since leaving Kadara. Especially the feel of him, hot in her palm, wickedly skilled between her thighs.

Casarra sighed, scrolling through her private terminal. Today was just another tick mark. More than a week had passed since she saw him last, and five days since she messaged him. At the time she’d been incredibly nervous, rewriting her words over and over. As if she was some school girl with a first crush. Now it seemed only right she'd been nervous. He was ignoring her.

Even with worry and annoyance on her mind, Reyes was still an itch that needed to be scratched, addictive as any drug. Casarra scrolled back to read his last email, desperate for something, anything Reyes. A tinge of shame accompanied the action, like digging through the trash, desperate for scraps. That made her start. She straightened her spine and stopped her finger in its tracks. If he wasn’t going to talk to her, then she shouldn’t stoop to idealizing him.

As she withdrew from the screen, a new message popped up. SAM blinked awake at his terminal next to her.

“You have a new message, Pathfinder.”

She was all bluster in the end. The immediate surge of excitement in her veins and bubbles of happiness in the pit of her stomach proved just how hopelessly gone Casarra was. No moment of artificial superiority could change that. Her hand shook in anticipation as she hurriedly scrolled back up, a smile creeping onto her face. Maybe he’d finally written back.

It was a message from Captain Dunn.

The rush dissipated just as swift, and in the aftermath of heightened emotion, Casarra felt a little black hole open up in her chest. The happiness was sucked straight out and replaced with empty space. At least Captain Dunn’s email was brief and to the point. She wanted to meet with Casarra on a matter of importance. The captain wasn’t prone to exaggeration. If she needed something urgently, Casarra believed it. And instead of sitting in her quarters and moping over a guy, she had the perfect opportunity to be immediately useful.  

Casarra logged out of her private terminal and left to find Captain Dunn.

 

Even though she’d technically lived on the Hyperion longer than anywhere else in her life, Casarra always felt a little odd coming back there. She’d simply been asleep for too long for the ship to make any real impression on her. For her dad and Captain Dunn, it was different. Before leaving Earth, they’d seen the ship get built, watched her come to life. And then they’d been awake for months before the Scourge, preparing for their final embark to the Nexus. Captain Dunn was still dockside now, ensuring her people were situated well. While Casarra knew she was one of them, a Hyper, a new identity was slowly overtaking the rest. Like adding upgrades to her armor -- taking off an old piece here and there -- Casarra was a patchwork of improvements, moving forward in her new life until she was no longer a student or a scientist, but just the Pathfinder. The Tempest was becoming her home, not the ship that brought her here.

Casarra bounced on her heels in the tram. The last time she’d been down here was to see Scott. She decided that after seeing Captain Dunn, Scott was really owed a visit. Was she a bad sister for staying away for so many weeks? Without a doubt, Scott would have made every attempt to see her on a regular basis. He was possibly the sweeter of the two of them.

Casarra smiled sadly, thinking about her brother. Scott was military, but a softie. While he was into daring adventure, he loved his family and coming back to his roots. It was a charming combination, one that he used to his advantage to get out of trouble with their parents. _Or mostly just mom_ , Casarra thought.

The tram stilled. She exited, passing the doors to Cryo. Her family was so small and sad, just the two of them, one of who was stuck beyond those doors. And while her crew on the Tempest was an amazing group of people, there was no use in denying that Casarra needed her twin right about now. Setting aside the issues of the Archon and becoming Pathfinder, Casarra was in deep with a shadowy sort of figure.  That was _almost_ more terrifying than the unknown of the Archon. She scoffed to herself; no doubt Reyes would love to see the effect he had on her. He’d wink or smirk or do something that drove her absolutely crazy for him. Scott would not only have an opinion about Reyes, but would have helped Casarra decide what to do next. He always had better instincts about romantic engagements, much wiser about the men he dated than Casarra. The only relationship of hers he'd approved of was with a woman. And he was right for it -- Emily was the only ex Casarra regretted having; she wished it had ended much differently, though there was nothing for it now.

She huffed. What would Scott tell her to do with shady, sexy Reyes? Call him? Track him down? Tip someone off about the Charlatan and make his world spin off its axis for once? It was the least he deserved, really.

While deep in thought, Casarra passed Captain Dunn on the bridge. The older woman called out though, breaking Casarra’s dangerously melodramatic train of thought.

“Ryder,” she said. Casarra turned around, a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry to call you in, but this is best handled discreetly.”

“That’s okay,” Casarra said, walking back to the captain’s side. The captain didn't seemed phased that Casarra managed to miss her. “What’s happening?”

“Short version: one of Harry’s medtechs snuck a relative on-board. Woke them up, cut them loose. Turns out this relative has a rare illness. Not contagious yet, but in the later stages.”

Casarra’s pulse flew at the idea of what a contagious illness could do on a space station. “And does Tann know about this?”

“What?” Captain Dunn looked almost offended. Casarra couldn’t blame her -- Tann was hardly where you went with problems. “Absolutely not. Tann’s office is an informational sieve. This gets out, we’ll have a station-wide panic. Besides, this is a Hyperion matter. My responsibility.”

“I agree; I’m here to help, whatever you need. Best to keep things out of Tann’s way.”

The captain nodded her head. “Thank you, Ryder. The only way to end this without major losses is if we handle this before the rumors get out. Talk to Harry -- he can brief you on the details.”

Casarra appreciated Captain Dunn’s straightforward approach. She was capable, far more so than the leadership on the Nexus.

“Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Captain Dunn. I’ll go talk with Harry now, I was meaning to see Scott anyway.”

Dunn smiled, or as much of a smile as the serious officer could manage.  It was more of a twitch of the upper lip. “I went in to see him too. Your father would have appreciated someone looking after him while you’re off finding a home for us.”

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it too.”

They shook hands, very official, then parted ways, the captain heading back to the deck, Casarra bounding down the steps two at a time to reach Cryo. This was the perfect crisis to get her mind right. There was a definitive end state: find the missing person and get them back to Cryo. Someone else could sort the rest later.

Casarra walked briskly to the Cryo Bay, people nodding in greeting as she passed. The automatic doors to the medbay hissed as she approached, and she slid inside and went directly to Scott. He appeared peaceful -- a state of being that was neither good or bad, but really not like her brother. She squeezed his hand, hoping to send some good energy through the contact. God, how she wished he would wake up. He'd have been brilliant at this sort of problem.

“Sorry I haven’t dropped by in awhile,” she said softly. "Not that you would have noticed. I hope. SAM better not be talking trash about me."

“Casarra.” A voice from behind startled her. Casarra looked over her shoulder, finding Harry. He joined her at Scott’s bedside, clamping a hand on her shoulder. “You talked to Captain Dunn.”

“Couldn’t I just be here to see sleeping beauty?”

“You don’t come down here much.” Her brows drew together -- did everyone notice that? “Not that I blame you. There’s not much to see when a patient is comatose. We’re taking care of him.”

“Good. I hope he’s up soon. I miss him.” She gave Scott a parting squeeze and dropped his hand. “Tell me,” Casarra said with a bit of urgency. Harry gestured her aside, moving away from the patients into a corner where containers of supplies piled up.  

“Before we left, my medtech Charlie helped his aunt sign on to the initiative program. She has TH-314. Deadly, highly contagious in the latter stages and jumps across species. It was dormant but flared up after Charlie woke her. He just assumed it was stasis sickness. There’s no cure, no vaccine. Its deadly in its final stage and she’s off-grid. She’s a problem.”

“What’s it look like?”

“According to the test results from Charlie, she’s still in stage one of the disease.” Harry looked around again, cautious to have anyone overhear. “Stage one symptoms are similar to stasis sickness, which is what fooled Charlie. Stage two is marked by extreme bouts of paranoia. It becomes virulently contagious at stage three. Airborne, the works. If she progresses to stage three... Ryder it’ll be bad. It’s a rare disease, but the kind that starts pandemics.”

“So now what do we do?”

Harry sighed. “Every instinct I have both medically and human is screaming at me to help her. But making sure TH-314 doesn't spread is the top priority, no matter what.” Casarra could read the subtext there. She didn’t want to make him elaborate.  While she felt for the woman -- her mother had suffered an awful, rare disease too -- Casarra was also a little irritated. What would convince this woman to put others in danger? In a new galaxy, no less, where the population was much smaller.

“This one isn’t going to be easy," Harry continued. “Be quick but discreet -- we can’t panic the entire station over this. Try customs first. Even with the fake medical clearance, she had to go through there like anyone else.”

SAM spoke up. “Dr. Carlyle has granted me access to Ruth Bekker’s profile. The file includes her physical description.”

“Thanks, SAM,” she said. “Harry, I'll get it done.”

The doctor looked relieved, no doubt thinking some of this was his fault. A member of his staff had started this after all. Casarra left, lingering briefly at the foot of her brother’s bed. She hoped to channel Scott's sense of adventure in the race to prevent ship-wide chaos. _I’ll find her first,_ he would have bragged. She didn't doubt he would have.

As it turned out, finding Ruth Bekker was as exciting as watching paint dry. After dealing with customs, Casarra started scanning to find the woman’s path. She followed the lingering specter of Ruth throughout the atrium, to the bar, up in Operations then back to just outside of customs. Irritated, Casarra griped to SAM, even though it made her look like a crazy person too, the conversation seemingly one-sided.

“Couldn't she just stay put?”

Casarra scuffed the tip of her boot on the floor. A man on a bench nearby talked wildly with his hands, animated over a woman who’d beat him up. He was very piqued. “You think she's gone stage two: crazy aunt?” she asked SAM.

“It's possible, Pathfinder. You should  see if he can describe his attacker.”

“I agree.”

Casarra walked over. The man rubbed his temple, grumbling. He appeared fine -- there were no discernible marks on him. “Excuse me,” she said gently. “What happened?”

“I was here fixing a shuttle when this woman came out of nowhere. She whacked me over the head and took the shuttle. Almost fried me taking off.

Casarra offered a sympathetic nod. “Sorry about the goose egg. Anything else you can tell me? I’ve been sent to look for her.”

“I blowtorched the hell out of the hull when she hit me. She’ll leave a radiation trail a klick wide.”

That was a relief, at least. A way to track her possibly. “Thank you, we’ll find her.”

The man didn’t seem to appreciate Casarra’s concern nor the woman who tried to attend him. He brushed away her probing hands. Perhaps he’d be on hook for the shuttle. That was an issue for another time; Casarra booked it back to the Tempest, cutting off a passerby in the atrium.

“SAM, alert Kallo. We're heading off.”

“Already done, Pathfinder.”

“Perfect.”

The crew was all waiting for Casarra on the Tempest. She charged up to the deck, breathless. Liam shot her a passing “hey,” while Vetra trilled off a joke that Casarra missed entirely. There wasn’t time for that -- Casarra felt an enormous amount of pressure to find Ruth Bekker as soon as possible.

Kallo fired up the engines before Casarra even got through the doors. She bee-lined for Suvi.

“Hey, Ryder,” Suvi beamed, pulling up a few screens on her consoles.

“Hey yourself,” Casarra said. “Big day for scientific equipment.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Suvi’s relative state of calm soothed.  Casarra could always turn to her friend for a brightened perspective.

“I know, right?” Suvi pointed to a display where a trail of radioactive dust lit up like fireworks. The Tempest took off, disengaging from the docks. “SAM sent me the data on the shuttle. I've set up our scanners to track it, and you can see that our shuttle headed this way, out of orbit of the Nexus.”  

“Of course she’d go for a long trip.” Casarra sat against the console, crossing her arms. “We ready Kallo?”

“Disembarking now, Pathfinder,” he replied.

The ship punched off -- headed to the coordinates of the dust trail. With luck, Ruth would be an easy find.

 

Luck was not on Casarra’s side, but when was it ever anymore? The process of finding Ruth Bekker took hours. The woman had apparently been highly erratic in her decision making, which was unsurprising given her sickness. They closed in on Elaaden -- nearly giving Drack heart palpitations, toured around some asteroids, swooped into the Anasa system. Suvi’s calmness had long since worn off, eyes peeled on the scanners, and Casarra paced the bridge, feeling pointless. There wasn’t much for her to do other than wait, hoping the shuttle ran out of fuel soon. As long as Ruth stayed away from the settlements, everything would be fine. The best possible outcome was shuttle failure, the only known case of TH-314 in Andromeda lost to the vortex of space.

Casarra shook the thoughts out of her head. Since when did she hope a woman abandoned? Leaning against the command console, Casarra watched planets and stars and asteroids all whipping past their ship; it was mesmerizing, and soon enough she was lost to the waves of light in front of her.

“The scanners have picked up the shuttle’s trail again,” Suvi said. Casarra perked up, uncrossing her stiff limbs and moving to perch on the corner of Suvi’s desk.

“Where we going this time?”

Suvi looked down at her screen.  “It looks like she's heading to...” She blanched as the results came in.

“What is it, Suvi? Somewhere we have a settlement?”

“A new one at that, Ryder...” Casarra’s heart pounded, knowing immediately where Ruth was headed before Suvi even finished her thought.

 _Don’t say it,_ she wished. _Don’t say Kadara, please._

“... the shuttle's bound for Kadara.”

A shiver ran down Casarra’s spine. She sat up, stubbing her foot on the metal desk by accident. The pain didn’t even register. All the nerves in her body redirected to her stomach, flaring a burst of fresh anxiety.

“Did she land?” Her voice was small, creaky. Casarra hated appearing so panicked. It made her seem so young. At least _half_ her 22 years.

Suvi didn’t immediately respond. Space whirred around them, an infinite amount of stars and an infinite amount of places to land. And the only person with a disease worthy of the word “pandemic” decided to take a joyride to Kadara.

So far the mission had been successful at one thing: keeping her mind off of Reyes. Casarra really hadn’t given him a thought since talking with Captain Dunn, too impressed by the gravity of the situation to worry about her boyfriend not messaging her back. Now her mind jumped to all kinds of awful conclusions: Reyes would find the shuttle, he’d try to help the crazy woman. Or Ruth would land in Kadara Port, act all crazy and the Charlatan’s people would take her in for questioning. Or somehow she’d make her way to the outpost. Or, or, or, or.

Having a creative mind was a benefit until all the possible outcomes in front of you were terrible. Casarra could picture a million reasons how this could go wrong. All of them scenarios where Reyes wound up dead.

“Let’s find her before anyone else can,” Casarra vowed.

Suddenly she wasn’t so mad about the mental tally marks. If she could prevent Ruth from going stage three and infecting everyone on Kadara, the very next thing she’d do was find Reyes in whatever corner he was hiding that day, and kiss him senseless. Then they could talk about proper email etiquette. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone else get a little panicky when you found out the shuttle landed on Kadara? It's not a sexy chapter, but plot, plot away!


End file.
